Powered (Mech Wars Book 1)

by Scott Bartlett

  “Andy, now is not the time to observe proper safety protocol,” Lisa said. “You need to go faster.”

  “I’m on it,” he said, his voice tight.

  “What kind of artillery do beetles have?” she yelled, her voice shaking as the beetle went over a shallow ridge. Glancing behind her, she saw that one of the chasing beetles had nearly reached them.

  “None.”

  “Then we have nothing to worry about, right?”

  At that moment, the lead beetle caught up to them.

  It slammed into the side of their vehicle, forcing Andy to veer toward a gaping canyon. At the last minute, he jerked the wheel to the right and accelerated, clearing the front of the pursuing beetle by what seemed like inches.

  Their pursuers had been trying to ram them, and now they barely managed to rein in their speed before careening into the canyon themselves.

  Andy glanced back at Lisa. “Traveling at high speeds over dangerous terrain, with three beetles trying to do that to us? I’d say we have plenty to worry about, Lisa.”

  Chapter 20

  Test Run

  Darkstream’s Department of Military Research and Development was located in Alpha Quadrant, on the opposite side of Valhalla Station from Omega Quadrant, where Gabe’s recruits lived and sweated and washed out.

  Gabe stood at an observation window, flanked by two of the company’s nerds. Six more nerds sat behind them at two rows of consoles, poring over various data readouts.

  Below, in a large, titanium-reinforced chamber, Chief Zimmerman took another step toward the alien mech that Peter Price and his son had discovered inside a comet on the edge of Darkstream-occupied space. The mech reacted as it always did—by doing absolutely nothing.

  Gabe had fought alongside Peter Price, during the first missions on Eresos. Together, they and other company operatives had cleared out enough Quatro to make room for humanity to set up shop.

  Of course, Price had processed those missions differently than Gabe. They’d taken a heavier toll on Price, who’d been honorably discharged after his psyche broke down for a time.

  Following that, he’d fled to the Belt, found a wife, and never returned to the inner system.

  Price was a good man. Gabe hadn’t gotten along very well with him, but he could still recognize that the guy was a good person.

  That didn’t mean he’d go easy on his cocky upstart of a son.

  The nerd on Gabe’s right tapped a console projecting from the bulkhead underneath the window. It had the effect of projecting his voice into the reinforced room. “Are you ready, Chief Zimmerman?”

  Zimmerman nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Please approach the mech.”

  One of the major roadblocks R&D faced in building a functioning mech of their own involved an inability to figure out a working control interface.

  So far, nothing they’d tried afforded the minute level of control required for combat. If the mech didn’t react the instant you reacted, you’d be as good as dead, in a lot of cases.

  They’d already learned much from studying the alien mech, and had improved their own design dramatically. But given Darkstream’s inability to grasp the code with which the alien mech was programmed—or whether it was programmed at all—the only way to learn about its controls was to send someone with an implant inside it so that their sensory data and brain waves could be recorded and analyzed.

  Zimmerman reached the mech and laid his palm over its left “calf.” Instantly, the guts of the mech distended, forming a ramp for Zimmerman to mount. Gabe had heard somewhere that they’d learned how to open the thing shortly after bringing it here.

  Presumably, that mechanism won’t work if there’s someone already inside it. If it did, it would make the thing vulnerable to any enemy that could play tag.

  Zimmerman appeared to take a deep breath, and then he climbed up inside the mech. The ramp folded seamlessly back into the machine, making it so that there was no sign of an opening there at all.

  The war machine took a step toward the observation window, and instantly, Gabe lost any doubt he’d had that the thing had been created by whoever made the Gatherers and the Amblers.

  It had the same fluid metal surface, comprised of overlapping plates like scales, which shifted as it moved.

  When Zimmerman had first climbed inside, the feed from his implant had shown a smooth, man-shaped shell waiting to envelop him. Gabe suspected that the mech likely had the same level of versatility as the Gatherers, maybe more—which would make it a weapon of immense power.

  He realized something else: no matter how impressive the mechs Darkstream ended up producing, none of them would ever come close to touching the machine he looked at now.

  The mech’s right arm jerked toward the observation window, rapidly morphing into what looked like a cannon. Both nerds ducked as the mech fired.

  Gabe remained standing, knowing nothing could pierce that window, short of a nuclear blast.

  When the glass began to splinter, he gasped, taking a step back.

  “Zimmerman!” one of the nerds shouted. “Chief Zimmerman, come in!”

  “He’s attempting to regain control!” another shouted.

  The cannon-arm zigzagged down, then back up again. The mech took a stuttering step backward.

  “Chief Zimmerman, exit the machine if you can!”

  Clearly, he can’t.

  As Gabe looked on, transfixed, the mech’s entire torso morphed, folding inward, and he knew that Zimmerman was dead.

  Indeed, seconds later, the thing’s guts flexed outward, a thousand jagged spikes protruding every which way. A pulpy, red substance began to leak to the floor in streams.

  Having turned Zimmerman into paste, the mech stood motionless once more.

  Chapter 21

  Beetle Chase

  Even amidst the chaos of the chase, Lisa found a moment to feel some sympathy for Andy. He’d only ever been trained as a driver, not as combat personnel. This was probably the first time he’d ever had other human lives depending on him.

  At least he’s recognized the importance of speed.

  Their beetle now raced just ahead of its pursuers, though Andy was still taking too much time to scrutinize the approaching terrain, even going so far as to glance at recent satellite images.

  If he’d been trained as a soldier, he would know that sometimes, taking on immense risk was the only way of having a shot at survival.

  The pursuing beetles, which Lisa felt sure had been tracking them all the way from Habitat 2, were clearly no strangers to risk. They capitalized on every opportunity to close the distance, whether it included accelerating over rough terrain or gathering enough speed to sail over pits of unknown depths.

  Still, Andy’s skill as a driver went a long way, and though he’d almost certainly never had to drive so defensively, Lisa noticed him experimenting on the fly, and starting to capitalize on opportunities to throw off those chasing them.

  “I’m going to try for that narrow canyon, there,” he said, his voice shaky. “I’m pretty sure it’s big enough for the beetle.”

  “You can do it, Andy,” Lisa said, going so far as to reach forward to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  “Thanks,” he said, actually sounding grateful.

  The beetle picked up speed, and behind them, the others rearranged their formation, probably angling to cut Andy off, if it turned out his run at the canyon was a bluff.

  But Andy wasn’t bluffing. He roared between the sheer cliffs of blue rocks, and two of the pursuing beetles did the same.

  One of them didn’t make it. The sound of its collision with the rock face reached them even inside the crew cabin.

  “One down,” Andy said. “Hopefully.”

  They screamed out of the other end of the canyon, the remaining two beetles in close pursuit.

  Andy jerked the wheel to the right, and the beetle banked suddenly, sending a spray of blue dirt flying out into empty air�
��out over the cliff he’d narrowly avoided taking them over.

  Behind them, their remaining two pursuers also completed the turn successfully.

  “Damn,” Andy said. “I thought that would do it.”

  “Any other ideas?” Tessa asked.

  “One. If I remember right, there’s another cliff dead ahead, which is easy to drive straight over if you don’t know it’s there. That’s fine, because there’s a wide shelf just underneath it, which you can catch yourself on if you aren’t going too fast and you know what you’re doing. But if they follow us over it, there’s a good chance they’ll fly right over the second cliff, and there’s no shelf to save them beneath that one.”

  Andy glanced back at them, wearing an adrenaline-fueled grin. “Make sure you’re strapped in nice and tight, ladies.”

  The beetle barreled forward, and the knowledge that they were speeding toward a cliff, combined with her ignorance of exactly where that cliff was—it made Lisa’s toes curl inside her boots.

  Their pursuers were coming on even faster, which was probably good, but it did nothing to slow her racing heart.

  Andy slammed on the brakes, the beetle skidded forward, and suddenly the ground fell away from beneath them.

  Lisa’s stomach somersaulted toward her mouth as the vehicle plummeted, and she braced for impact.

  The force of the beetle slamming into the hard-packed regolith of the shelf felt like it would dislodge her teeth from her skull.

  At last, the tumult subsided, just as one of the beetles soared overhead, toward the second cliff.

  Miraculously, it managed to catch itself on the lip, with one of its wheels dangling in midair. Then it began to reverse, and Lisa saw what had saved it: a rock outcropping it had chanced to get lodged on.

  “Andy, drive!” Lisa shouted.

  He did, gunning the engine and accelerating straight for the other beetle.

  The entire frame of their beetle shuddered as the two vehicles collided, and Lisa heard a cracking sound.

  Dutifully, the other beetle’s wheel “stepped” over the rock that had saved it, allowing Andy to nudge it the rest of the way over the cliff. It tumbled forward, its rear facing directly upward, and then it was gone. A few seconds later, they heard it collide with Alex far below.

  A fracture now stretched from the bottom-left corner of their main forward window to the top-right. It didn’t do much to obscure visibility, but its presence was alarming.

  “Is that going to hold?” Tessa asked.

  “It should,” Andy said. “Silicon nitride windows are almost impossible to shatter. You’d need a hell of a lot more force than that.”

  Lisa took the liberty of angling their rear camera upward, so that the viewscreen showed the cliff they’d just driven over. The third beetle from Habitat 2 was parked up there, watching them. After another minute, it drove away.

  “I guess they’re giving up,” Andy said.

  “Hopefully,” Tessa said. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Chapter 22

  For Our Sisters

  Jake flicked the air in front of his face, using his v-lenses to scroll through his messages.

  A lot of them were from his gaming friends, most of whom he’d never met in-person. He’d barely met them in-game, actually. Because of how long it took signals to traverse the system, out in the Belt he could only ever compete for the highest score, without ever actually fighting other players in real-time.

  That was perhaps his favorite thing about being on Valhalla Station—the ability to fight living, breathing opponents in lucid.

  And today was the very first day Roach had given the recruits off from training, so Jake finally had the opportunity to seek out people he wanted to face. Some of his gaming friends even lived on Valhalla.

  Yet here he was, lying on his bunk, scrolling through page after page of messages. Because as fun as lucid combat was, he needed to check for messages from his family.

  I can’t wait till they give me an implant. His control over the digital interface would be much more intuitive, then, and directed by his thoughts, not by goofy gestures in midair.

  At last, he found a message from his father, and opened it.

  Peter Price was brief, as always. He hadn’t shaved in a while, which was unusual for him, and there were bags under his eyes, but his news was good: “Jake. I hope you’re well. We’ve almost finished developing the comet where we found the mech. We’ve been able to include a lot of little extras because of the money we made from selling that thing. Well, the payment hasn’t been processed yet, but I took out a loan, knowing it’ll come soon. I should be able to get a much better price for this comet than usual. I’ve only hired on one guy so far, but I’m screening new applicants all the time. No one can replace you, of course. Message me back soon. I miss you.”

  “Miss you, Dad,” Jake whispered. But he’d message him back later.

  Next, he found a message from his mother. She looked tired, too, and her hair, as red as Jake’s, bracketed her face in loose disarray.

  Everyone’s tired. Just like me.

  Brianne Price had less good news.

  “Hi, love. Your sister wanted to record a message, but she’s still not feeling well enough. She isn’t responding as well as we’d hoped to the radiation, but the doctor says there are alternatives, which we should be able to try as soon as the payment from Darkstream is processed. And your father’s business is growing, so that will help, too. Thank you for doing your part for that, Jake. I hope you’re staying safe. Love you.”

  “Love you, Mom,” Jake said, and suddenly he wanted to cry. Roach hadn’t been able to make him do that, but lying here on his bunk, alone while the others enjoyed Valhalla Station, missing his family…he almost cried.

  But he didn’t. He forced himself to get up and leave the bunkroom. It was about time he “Experience Valhalla,” as the well-known slogan went.

  The company had poured a lot of money into this place, which explained why it was such a popular destination, even for people down on Eresos, which was the only place in the Steele System where you could actually go outdoors without wearing a pressure suit.

  Valhalla doesn’t have Quatro. So I guess that’s a fair trade.

  The station also did a decent job of mimicking the outdoors. The ceiling, far too high to touch, was one giant, seamless viewscreen, which offered a convincing illusion of blue sky, dotted with just a few wispy clouds.

  Of course, that was only in the common spaces. Businesses could make their ceiling screens show whatever they wanted, and they used that to great effect.

  Jake had heard that there was a theater where live actors performed only Shakespearean plays, and they used the ceiling there to show the storms that inevitably turned up in those scripts. For indoor scenes, they showed the ceiling of whatever structure those were set in, whether it was a witch’s hovel or a royal palace.

  Valhalla was also dotted with green spaces, and Jake walked through one of those now. Here, anyone rich enough to live on Valhalla could enjoy actual nature, or at least as close to nature as you could get aboard a space station. The flowers and grass and bushes and trees were all Earth-based species, which had been taken off of humanity’s homeworld—before its degradation was complete—and cultivated through the generations.

  He found Ash Sweeney sitting with her back against a giant oak, whose branches stretched way up toward the artificial sky. Jake wondered briefly whether the entire tree was real, or whether it became simulated at some point along the way up. He wasn’t sure how that would work, but he also wouldn’t put anything past Darkstream.

  “Hey,” he said to Ash, who hadn’t noticed him yet.

  She looked up, and he saw the sadness in her eyes before she managed to mask her emotions, just like adults were supposed to do. Especially adults trying to make it as mech pilots.

  “Hello.”

  “You all right?” He took a seat beside her, though as soon as he did it occurred to hi
m that he probably should have asked to join her first. Oh well.

  “I’m, uh…” Ash sighed. “I’m thinking about my sister. Missing her.”

  “That’s a coincidence. Here I am, thinking about mine.”

  “You lost your sister, too?”

  “I probably will soon. She has stage-four adenosarcoma. That’s partly why I want this so bad. A mech pilot’s pay will go a long way toward getting her the treatment she needs, not to mention paying the debts my family have already racked up trying to make her better.”

  “I’m sorry, Jake.”

  “Don’t be. Not yet. It might be time for that, soon, but not yet.”

  “Okay.”

  “But forget about all that. It’s our first day off. Is it crazy that I can’t stop thinking about going back to training tomorrow? And wondering what it’ll be like to actually pilot a mech?”

  Ash laughed. “If that’s crazy, then I’m right there with you. Mechs are so freaking cool.” She swept a hand through her short, straw-colored hair. “I’ve been telling my mother since I was a girl that I wanted to drive a mech. She always said it was crazy, and I knew she was right. I figured it probably would be hundreds of years before humanity built them, if ever, and I’d only ever get to pilot one in lucid. And yet…here I am.”

  “Here you are,” Jake said. “One of just three-hundred remaining recruits, all competing for the exact same thing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did your, uh…did your mom survive the attack on Northshire?”

  Ash nodded. “Yes. She made it. Still recovering, but…she made it.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “Me too.” She paused, for a long time. Then: “You think I’m going to wash out, don’t you?”

  Jake met her eyes, which were the same color as Planet Alexandria. “Well, Roach seems to be just as hard as you as he is on me, for whatever reason. But no, actually. I don’t think you’re going to wash out. I think we’re both going to make it.”